Three Reasons
by SakuraGirl25
Summary: Two reasons Steve does not like visiting Max's 'den' and the one reason he visited willingly. SLASH Nothing explicit but the rating is T based on the language.
1. Where's the Head?

**Three Reasons**

**AN: Have you guys ever wondered why out of everyone Steve seems to be in Max's autopsy lab the least. Well, I have a theory and this story revolves around them. This is slash so if no likey don't read it. This is unbetaed so if there are any mistakes my bad.  
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**Warnings: None.  
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**Disclaimer: Nope still not mine.**

**Where's the Head?**

Steve McGarrett did not like dead bodies. Yes he was a highly trained and decorated Navy SEAL and a member of the member of the Navy Reserve. He had braved all sorts of dangers and unforgiving elements on insane missions with his unit. He'd shot and killed people considered a threat to the government without batting an eye. Hell, he'd bought a knife to a gunfight and come out on top. He was a BAMF and he knew it. But, all that aside he hated dead bodies. They creeped him the fuck out.

He entered the autopsy room, finding Max hard at work. The first thing he noticed was the corpse's chest splayed open like a twisted version of a J. Crew catalogue. "So what have we got?" He couldn't help but look down while Max spouted information as if reciting a grocery list as he poked through the woman's organs.

"Okay, so the bullet wound didn't kill her."

"Precisely." He stated before he started examining the woman's liver.

"Max…this body had a head when I last saw it," Steve stated, looking with bemusement at the neck stump.

Max looked up from his task of extracting intestines. "Oh! Yes well I noticed—as I said upon initial examination—the bone of her skull was depressed around a certain point. But the wound was too obscure, so I boiled the head after shaving it of course." He gave a small chuckle after his last statement.

"You…what?" Danny asked in disbelief.

Max pointed.

Steve turned his head slowly—like all victims in horror movies—and his eyes fell upon a large pot across the room. Inside that pot was a boiling head. He stared at the pot, seeing the steam rise and hearing the gurgling of the roiling water. This was beyond fucked up.

A timer went off, flooding the room with an annoyingly shrill beep. "Ah, I believe it is ready."

He observed in repulsed shock as Max sauntered over to the pot, a pan and pair of tongs in hand. He used the tongs to withdraw the contents. Steve stared at the steaming, dripping wet gray _boiled_ brain held by the man. The only things missing were a creepy castle, lightning, and evil organ music. He felt his stomach turn.

Danny made a sound in the back of his throat, looking as if he were about 10 seconds from beating a hasty retreat.

Max set the pan holding the steaming brain on the autopsy table. "Which do you prefer? Right or left hemisphere?" He asked, mischief glinting in his dark eyes.

"Really Max?" Steve asked, feeling his stomach flip dangerously.

Steve exited the autopsy room, stomach churning. Next time he saw a headless corpse on Max's autopsy table he was going to immediately walk out and ask for a report instead. He was not going back into Dr. Frankenstein's lab again.

**END**

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**That's the end of chapter one. If you like it Read and Review please.**


	2. Evasive Maneuvers

**AN: This is the next chapter. This one is not as humorous as the previous one. Enjoy.**

**Warnings: None**

**Disclaimer: It's not mine.**

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**Evasive Maneuvers**

Steve had a problem. It started out small enough. He noticed how his lips were the color of strawberries or how he puckered his mouth into an adorable pout when concentrating, and the smooth texture of his almondy skin. He even found the man's nervous twitches, the way his fingers would dance on his thighs absently, endearing.

Had it ended there he would have shrugged it off as a phase. Oh, but it did not end as some sort of phase of fascination. The problem evolved into something more troublesome: desire

The day he found himself staring at Max's mouth with the desire to kiss it floored him. It didn't stop did it? Nope. He found the desire to caress that golden skin and tangle his hands in lush jet-black hair…distracting.

Oh but you see, desire can evolve as well. And when desire transforms it turns to lust. Now lust is a different beast altogether. Lust is desire turned to aching need. It can cloud the senses and if left unmanaged or unappeased can cause chaos. Thus Steve's problem.

He'd become hyperaware of the man. The way his dark eyes sparked with intensity or quiet mischief could hold him captive when they landed on him. When his lips formed that perfect pout his cock twitched in need. Even his dreams consisted of Max writhing beneath him in ecstasy. Plain and simple he wanted to fuck him until the smaller man couldn't walk. But of course the doctor seemed to show no interest in him, aside from their burgeoning friendship.

He loomed over the surface desk, staring at evidence on the digital screen single-mindedly. He'd just come from Max's autopsy room—thankfully each corpse had its head. And to keep his mind from flashing sinful images of the medical examiner naked and posed in erotic positions he looked over the evidence, again.

"What's wrong with you?" Danny asked, coming to stand next to him.

"Nothing. Why?" He continued scrolling through the evidence reports.

Danny folded his arms. "Oh I don't know. Every time you're in the same room as Max you either look like you want to retreat or take a shit." He leaned over, a grin on his lips. "So when did you get sweet on Max?"

Steve, unsurprised, cast a wary glance around the room. "February."

"That long huh?"

He nodded with frustration.

"You do know nine months isn't some passing phase right?"

"Yes Danny," he said wearily. Why couldn't he just crawl in a hole until Doomsday? Because lust—the bastard—had gone and turned into deep affection.

"So, you gonna tell him you got the hots for him and wanna have his baby?" Danny couldn't help but tease the commander.

Steve cast a glower to Danny. "First of all, fuck you, I'm a top. Secondly, that's impossible. Thirdly this shit is serious."

Danny erased his grin, holding in the urge to tease the man endlessly. "Okay, okay sorry. You guys would make such an odd couple though."

"What does it matter? He's probably straight or I'm not his type or something."

Danny raised his eyebrow. He had never heard Steve voice an insecurity. This _was_ serious. "So just tell him."

"Hell no."

"What are you going to do?"

Steve turned to lean against the surface desk. "Avoid him like the plague."

Danny furrowed his brow. "What the hell? You're a SEAL I thought they didn't run."

"From insane missions, torture, and bad odds? No. From our feelings? Hell yes. Now come on, we've got a lead."

**END**

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**I hope you enjoy this chapter and if you do drop me a few lines.  
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**Later Tater ^-*  
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	3. Freefall

**AN: Last chappie in this little fic. So enjoy my friends.**

**Warnings: Slash**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill**

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**Freefall**

It had happened. Danny had been right. Some little shit had stolen Max. He'd run into them on the beach. He'd just come from an exhilarating session of surfing and had been contemplating which flavor of shaved ice he wanted when someone called him.

"Steve!"

An involuntary grin spread across his lips. Max approached, wearing nothing but a tank top sporting a Star Trek graphic and board shorts. Perceptive blue eyes swept over his entire appearance in one go. "How's it Max?"

"Well. I would inquire as to your presence here but seeing the surfboard…"

"Yeah. You?" Was it him or did the sun make the medical examiner's golden skin glow?

He wiped sweat from his brow. "I'm here with Erwin."

"Who?" His eyes glued themselves to the pink tongue lapping at the ice cream. It took a considerable effort not to tackle Max and dry hump him on the spot. Lord give him strength.

Out of nowhere came another man. He was taller than Max with golden brown hair, strikingly handsome Asian features, and a leanly muscled build. With a jovial smile he threw an arm around Max's shoulders.

Jealousy flared inside Steve in a second flat. Who the fuck was this guy? Why did the hell did he have his arm around Max?

"Steve this is Erwin. Erwin this is Steve."

Steve saw the way Erwin's arm tightened inscrutably around Max's shoulder. He took the hand Erwin extended, wanting to crush it in his grip. "Hey."

"Max has told me so much about you," he said amiably.

"Wish I could say the same for you," he said, lacing most of the venom from his tone. Did the dick have to be nice too?

Erwin ignored his comment and gave a smile. "He speaks of you like you're Superman. Personally I think he idolizes you."

The blush that crept over Max's cheeks made him bite back a moan. "I do not," Max protested, not meeting Steve's gaze.

Erwin chuckled, poking Max's cheek. "You do too."

Steve wanted to strangle the man for touching Max.

"What'll ya have brah?" The server in the hut asked.

"Come on Max, let's get back before someone goes through our stuff."

He returned Max's wave, frowning when Erwin grasped his hand and tugged him away. The mutual affection on the men's faces was painfully unmistakable. Fuck his life.

Out of all of the people to run into it had to be Max and _Erwin. _The guy didn't look like an Erwin. The name Erwin made him think of a guy with eyeglasses thick enough to see Jupiter, allergies, and enough metal in his mouth to get satellite reception. He was supposed to look like damn Sammo Hung not fucking Nicholas Tse. _And_ the asswipe was nice.

"What'll you have?" The man repeated.

"Triple scoop, butter pecan." He cursed silently. He was going to eat this ice cream and then go home to take his anger out on his heavy bag in his home gym—while imagining himself pummeling Erwin's face.

Steve sat on the floor of his home gym—after having mindlessly pummeled both his heavy and speed bag. Sweat filmed his body, dripping down his face and dampening his shirt. He needed to think which he couldn't do with Danny asking him how he was doing every 10 seconds.

Before he could make it to the door Danny caught him. "Where are you going?"

"I need to think."

"What about dinner?"

Steve looked at the obviously burned cheese caked on the wooden spoon in the blonde's hand. Images of the charred tetrazzini casserole resurfaced in his mind. He shuddered. Never again. "I'll get something while I'm out."

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He lay on the hood of his truck which sat on the lookout overhanging the beach. What was his problem? When he wanted something he went after it. And he _**wanted**_ Max. So why was he so hesitant? He reminisced on his behavior and the emotions the medical examiner elicited from him in the past few months.

He let out a curse upon his revelation. Okay, he could admit it to himself. Max had—without trying—gotten under his skin and that unnerved him. So was he scared? No…okay he was cautious. Apprehensive? But he was tired of pining like a lovesick teenager. Hell, half of the relationships he'd been a part of in the past had petered out by nine months, the others didn't make it past two weeks. But this fancy for Max had lasted longer and didn't seem like it was going away any time soon.

At that moment, a resolution filled him. He would tell Max how he felt and hope they were shared. If they were not, then he'd lick his wounds and keep going. Whatever the outcome he would make sure to brace for rejection. He stared up at the studded night sky, a sense of serenity overcoming him, and he gave a soft smile.

His stomach gurgled ravenously. Right, he hadn't eaten in hours. No way was he going to risk poisoning from Danny's cooking. He sat up and hopped off the truck before climbing into it. He cranked the truck and pulled off the lookout.

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They'd just wrapped the Jimmy Sheehan case, which led them along a winding path. They would have never found the path had Max not given them their first lead. He opened the door to Max's office, finding the M.E. sitting at his desk.

"Hey Max." Max wasn't wearing his white doctor's coat. Instead he wore a red button-up shirt and khakis. Was the universe plotting against him? Why was Max wearing a color that only served to highlight his skin when he needed to focus?

Max turned in his desk chair. "Hello Steve."

Greedy aquamarine eyes instantly glued themselves to the expanse of neck exposed by an undone button. He wondered how Max's neck tasted. Mentally shaking himself he focused on the man's face. "Can—I need to tell you something."

"Okay." He gave Steve his undivided attention.

He swallowed, preparing himself for his confession and possible rejection. "Max I—for the past nine months…" He cursed at his lack of articulation.

"Is something wrong?" Max asked, preparing to stand.

"No. I…" he calmed himself, "I like you." God what was he ten?

Max canted his head. "I like you too."

Steve sighed. He knew Max thought he meant in a totally platonic way. "No…"

"So you don't like me?" He looked up quizzically.

How did the medical examiner manage to look so damned sexy while asking a question? And why in the hell did he always need the direct route? Fine he would be direct. He crossed the four steps it took to close the gap between him and the sitting medical examiner, stopping only when their knees bumped. He saw the question in Max's eyes but before the man could complain about personal space, he leaned down and captured his lips. Max's lips were just as sweet as he imagined tasting of a tantalizing mixture of coconut and vanilla. He poured everything into the kiss trying to convey what he so deeply felt without words.

When he drew away he studied Max's face. The man's expression was clouded his brown eyes transfixed on him.

"Oh."

He released Max's face. "Yeah."

"Erwin…"

That one word hit his heart like a Mac Truck, brutally crushing it along with his hopes. Fuck. Pain that hurt more than a gunshot wound stabbed him. "Right, you two are in a relationship."

"We are."

He nodded and stepped back, licking his lips. He wished he could fast forward through the awkwardness of the situation. "Then I really shouldn't have done that." He really shouldn't have because now he only wanted to do it more. "I'm just gonna go." If Max did not feel the same he wouldn't push his agenda. So, with his figurative tail tucked between his legs, he turned and strode towards the door.

"Of course…"

He turned to regard the medical examiner who was striding to him. There was a sparkle in his coffee eyes that made warmth tickle through him.

Max stopped when they were inches apart. "We are merely friends."

The puckish glint in those eyes made a small thrill prickle through him. That little imp. Steve cracked a smooth grin. "Pick you up at eight Friday?"

Max gave a nod of affirmation.

Steve winked at him before exiting. He felt like he was walking on air. He didn't know where this would go but he hoped it would it would be a long haul.

**END**

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**And that concludes my little fic. I hope you enjoyed it and if you did don't hesitate to drop me a line.  
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